


Dissemblance

by NoxFox03



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Anxiety Disorder, Feels, Gallows Humor, Gen, Humor, Social Anxiety, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1695560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoxFox03/pseuds/NoxFox03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's difficult to disguise all of your secrets. Remus Lupin should know. Though the only thing he seems to be aware of is his frequent ability to give Oscar winning performances to disguise his condition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dissemblance

It feels like I can’t breathe. The pain is overwhelming. I sit down in a chair, hoping that no one will notice that my current image of the room is particularly hazy and I’m afraid that if I step forward once more that my body will automatically find its own way of resting in the way of fainting. Attention is the last thing that I want, so I sit and breathe slowly.

‘Not one for parties eh?’ A voice that I recognise as Sirius’ breathes into my ear, the air expelled from his lungs tickling my neck as he does so.

It’s the first party that I’ve been to since befriending Sirius, James and Peter. There’s only so much time that I can pretend to spend in the library without the guys thinking that I have some sort of a problem. It’s bad enough pretending that I’m not a werewolf. I’ve spent two full moons with them so far. One I passed off as a family funeral, the next a stomach bug, where I got to practise my acting skills in the hospital wing the next day. Who knows what I’ll pretend for the third one? Either way I predict that I’ll be on the same billing as Peter O’Toole in his next theatre production.

As a result of trying to appear normal I came into the common room this evening and am reminded of how much I hate and fear social interaction. I feel nauseated. That paired with the full moon tomorrow does nothing to heal the fracture of anxiety that runs through my brain.

‘Hey come on mate, you look dreadful.’ Sirius gently pulls my arm and leads me upstairs into the dorm room. Most of the male population of Gryffindor seem oblivious to this but then I hear a wolf whistle and see James grinning. What an arsehole.

I collapse onto my bed, as soon as I reach the dorm, Sirius looking unsure as to how long he should maintain the contact with my arm for.

‘It’s alright Sirius,’ I say, brushing him off gently, ‘I’m fine. Just not one for parties.’

Sirius stares straight through my lopsided grin and I can almost see him picking my brain apart. I nervously pull at the curtains on my bed and attempt to look everywhere but his face. The sky is deceptively bright outside; I can see frost on the ground and pray that I won’t be an ice skating werewolf come the full moon. Not that I’ve managed to escape the Shrieking Shack so far. The Whomping Willow keeps me from doing that.

The rumours about the place being haunted have already been revived. The Shrieking Shack has been abandoned and desolate for some years the headmaster tells me and generally the population of Hogsmeade avoid it. Oh but naturally I’m not the first pupil who wouldn’t look out of place in a Shelley or Stoker novel; there have been other aberrations whom have occasionally taken residence there, though the last one was more than fifteen years ago. I have the fine privilege of breaking that silence.

‘My brother gets that at family parties too. It’s cool mate.’ Sirius stares at me, dead on, ‘I didn’t think you were that fond of the library. Well you know. You are a clever bastard. I just thought you preferred to wank in privacy during the day or something, rather than doing a crafty one in the dark and hoping that the curtains won’t rustle too much. Pete still hasn’t got the hang of it ey?’ He winks, ‘But yeah mate. Should have just said you get nervous. I er.. do er well nevermind about that.’

My head snaps up. Sirius suffers from anxiety too. But triggered by what? It’s now his turn to start rustling the curtains and conspicuously staring around the room.

‘You get it too?’ I ask.

‘With conflict,’ He shrugs, ‘My family are always arguing at home and well when there’s an argument, it usually gets taken out on me. So now whenever I hear anyone arguing, I feel like I’m gonna puke. When I go home at Christmas, that’s if they accept me, I think I’d rather face a mountain troll on the edge of a precipice than my mum. I’m sure you remember the Howler… One round with her and it takes a good couple of hours before I can think clearly or for my stomach to unclench enough for me to get any food down.’

The sound of springs being compressed hits my ears and I see Sirius shrink down into my bed dejectedly, his facial expression as though there’s a private horror film being projected inside his head. We both stop and listen carefully, to check if anyone is coming up the stairs. Of course if they were, it would probably be James. He seems to have made a special bond with Sirius since the first day on the Hogwarts Express.

An absurd thought strikes me as I’m about to respond to Sirius’ plight. Maybe James thinks I’m the Crafty Wanker of Gryffindor tower, who prefers alone time instead of hanging out with him too. Though now is not the time to worry about if I appear to be a stuck up arsehole or not. Being perfectly honest, I thought Sirius was a git when I met him. Well to be utterly honest up until about ten minutes ago but maybe it’s just bravado. The boy sitting in front of me now doesn’t appear to be the one who Wingardium Leviosa’d his pumpkin juice over the Slytherins at breakfast.

‘Yeah. I get that too. Social situations and exams. Or anything where I have to prove myself really. Public speaking. Crap like that.’ I shrug, ‘It feels like my thoughts are racing so much. I think about anything to distract me. No one really gets it.’

We both make eye contact with each other and nod. It’s the inexplicable look of two people who understand one another without having ever really talked. Not that we have really talked. It’s usually me and Pete then James and Sirius.

‘You look dreadful.’ Sirius breaks the silence.

‘Guess it’s just that time of month,’ I joke.

‘You were ill around this time last month too. Not hiding anything are you Remus? You didn’t get lost on the way to the girl’s dorms on the first of September, did you?’ Sirius smirks.

My throat almost closes up completely and I fight for enough air to be able to laugh, as I realise Sirius is just trying to make me feel relaxed.

‘Be a good job if I did though,’ I wheeze painfully, ‘I wouldn’t mind being a bit closer to Jenny Smeaton.’

‘Pffft. Me and James reckon that muggle-born Evan’s is the one to keep an eye out for. I can only imagine how many Howler’s I’d receive for that one. I’d probably get those and a Notice of Eviction.’ Sirius smiles but I see that it is hollow. Once more we are plunged into silence.

‘Hey guys. Are you both decent?’ We both leap up as James opens the door sniggering.

‘Well we wouldn’t have been a few moments ago. Might have caught a look at Remus’ snitch boxers! Merlin James! You’ll have to be more careful next time,’ Sirius laughs, elbowing James in the ribs. I join in and soon we are tumbling down the staircase to the common room. My chest feels marginally lighter, having talked to Sirius. I almost- but not quite- manage to stay in the common room for an extra few minutes than I planned that night.

Sirius’ bravado returned in the most vibrant and celebratory manner when we got downstairs and there was only one point when we made eye contact for the rest of the evening, which was when I was headed upstairs, once more feeling sick. He made an almost imperceptible nod as if to say ‘I understand’ and his face resembled more the expression he had in the dorm before turning back to the others and relaying his most recent tall story. If I’m O’ Toole’s right-hand man then he is definitely Buster Keaton’s.

* * *

 

I wake up the next morning and for a brief, wondrous second don’t know who I am, where I am or what day it is. Then it comes crashing down upon me.

I’m a werewolf.

I’m in a dorm room with some of the nicest people who I’ve met and have no idea that I have a worse case of personality disorder than Dr. Jekyll.

Tonight is the full moon.

Once these three facts have combined, quicker than a lightning strike and with more weight than the giant squid, bile rises up in my throat. Hurrying to the bathroom, I make it to the toilet just in time. I step out of the cubicle to see a concerned looking Sirius. Thank god it wasn’t one of the other two. Half-smiling, half-grimacing at him, I walk over to the sinks to splash my face.

Breakfast is an even worse affair. I manage half a slice of jam and toast before giving up completely. The smell of fried bacon is almost enough to have me rushing off to the bathroom again. Breathing through my nose is clearly not an option this morning.

Luckily, James is preoccupied with talking Quidditch, at least that’s what I can gauge through the haze of worry that is my brain and I’m glad to note that the other two are just as enthralled with the conversation as I could hope. Peter is grinning enthusiastically and Sirius is busy arguing that the Caerphilly Catapults are far superior to the Wimbourne Wasps.

Today is Wednesday, which means double Potions with the Hufflepuffs, double Transfiguration (where I’m sure I will have to once again observe Sirius attempting to morph various body parts of Slytherins) and then double Herbology. However, as it’s getting towards the shortest day of the year, I will have to leave lessons early in order that I’m safely ensconced within the Shrieking Shack before it gets dark.

I am jolted out of my reverie by an owl, which is slowly forcing itself into my arm in a bid to be noticed. The note attached to its leg will be from Madam Pomfrey, announcing what my ailment will be today. I quickly pull it from the owls leg and glance at it, holding it away from the curious gazes of the other boys.

_Unfortunate bite from Venomous Tentacula. Have to leave lesson early. Sprout knows._

Well that seemed like something convincing to pass off. At least I wouldn’t be required to win any awards for my performance. With that part of my worries no longer preying on my mind and the relief that the others had now finished breakfast, I leave the hall preparing myself for the night ahead.

As much as I can that is.

* * *

 

‘Arrggghhh!’ I yell, having not been bitten by the Venomous Tentacula, ‘I’ve been bitten by the Venomous Tentacula Professor Sprout! I think it needs seeing to. 

My anguish is enough to garner the attention of the whole class, yet somehow Professor Sprout manages to slip in a covert wink as she orders me to go and see Madam Pomfrey.

‘Should I go with him, Professor?’ Sirius asks. His look of concern is enough to make me wish that I had a brother, with the added bonus of making me feel guilty. However, Sprout is having none of it.

‘Any excuse to get out of lessons Black. Sit back down and focus on your Puffapod beans before you fill the greenhouse with their blooms! I’m sure Lupin will live. If it was fatal he’d already be dead. However, there is still time as he doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry to get his injuries tended to. Lupin. Go. Now.

I hurry outside and toward the Whomping Willow, where Madam Pomfrey is waiting for me. I note that she is standing several leagues from the base of the tree itself and don’t blame her. It was rather difficult to explain to the boys after my first visit to the Shrieking Shack, how I ended up with a black eye from a family funeral.

Madam Pomfrey would have healed it that morning but it hadn’t quite blossomed when she was tending to my cuts and grazes. It wasn’t until I strolled into the dorm looking suitably sombre (I just pictured the ending ‘Of Mice and Men’, that always gets me going), that I saw a look of horror on everyone’s face.

‘Are you alright Remus? How did you get that black eye?’ Peter had enquired with a note of concern in his voice.

‘Oh er…I er… coffin hit me in the face.’ I may be a good actor but I’d definitely have to improve on my improvisation. I was lucky that funerals are one of the few scenarios where people would feel awkward about asking how a coffin would suddenly strike one in the face. You can’t have it all.

I tentatively grab a branch, having received some food and instructions from Madam Pomfrey with the promise that she’ll be at the Shrieking Shack to come and take me to the hospital wing in the morning. She gives me a brief clap on the arm and a sympathetic look before departing. I descend into the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack with a sense of doom.

* * *

 

Feeling like all of the places in hell which even Lucifer avoids, I awaken to faint rays of sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the boarded up windows and sense someone else in the room. It’s too early for Madam Pomfrey and, despite myself, for the briefest of moments, I fear that the Shrieking Shack is truly haunted. Having dismissed the thought as silly, I open my eyes and see Sirius staring at me stony faced.

‘You look like shit mate,’ He grunts, his words harsh but his eyes betraying his concern 

‘I’m starting to think you have a crush on me Sirius. You can’t keep going around telling me how good looking I am all the time. I might start to get a big head,’ I mutter.

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ Sirius sounds like he has been betrayed and a fresh feeling of guilt washes over me and my voice cracks as I speak.

‘Dumbledore said that I can’t. Also, imagine if anyone in the school knew. It would be like witch-hunting part two: the werewolf edition. I’d be sent home and goodness knows what my future would look like.'

‘Do your parents help?’

‘As much as they can. Not that that’s much at all but you’ll find at breakfast today that I’ll receive a massive parcel of sweets. Especially chocolate: it’s one of the things that I think about the night before to get me through it. Then of course I lose control until the next morning, when I get to remember all of the lovely things that I did to myself and luckily not to other people.’ I sit up gingerly, aware of a massive gash running the length of my arm. Not the worst I’ve had in a long shot but the sight makes Sirius retch. I cover it up quickly, ‘Sorry.’

‘No, I’m sorry. I’m just not used to it. I’ve heard about it though. It must be dreadful.’ He scoots over towards me, as if to embrace me, then pauses, calculating how wounded I must be.

‘You can hug me if you like. Just. Be gentle.’ I breathe.

‘I er,’ He leans toward me and slowly puts his arms around me, gently brushing my back with his hands. I twitch involuntarily, my breath stalling, as I feel the extent of my injuries but manage to keep in any groans. I pat Sirius on the back in return.

We part awkwardly. Not quite sure how to interact with one another now we’ve gotten this big secret out of the way. It feels anti-climactic in a sense but equally I feel so relieved now that one of my peers knows and accepts me for who I am. For the first time in a while, I don’t feel so sick.

‘Are we allowed to tell the others?’ Sirius asks.

‘How about we let them work it out for themselves. My bet is that it’ll be at least another two full moons.’

‘Ha! My bet’s four. Is there anything I can do to help?’ Sirius’ eyes change from a sparkling mischievousness to a pair of inquisitive orbs within milliseconds.

‘I don’t think so,’ I say dejectedly.

‘I’ll try and think of something. Maybe I’ll spend some time with you in the library next common room party.’ He winks but I have a feeling he’ll give it a go regardless.

‘Don’t let me stop you from your vain bids to get Lily Evan’s attention.’ I chuckle.

‘Maybe it’s not hers that I want.’ Sirius falters.

‘Maybe it’s not Jenny Smeaton’s I want either.’ I stammer.

At that moment, in the Shrieking Shack, we’re the most vulnerable we’ve ever been. No façades. No secrets. Yet, in the most bizarre manner, I feel the strongest I’ve ever been since I became a werewolf. It’s with a heavy heart that I watch Sirius leave, so that Pomfrey doesn’t suspect anything.

‘I promise I’ll find a way to make it easier for you.’ He says giving me one final, soft hug, ‘Somehow. I may not be a clever bastard but I’m a bloody determined one.’

          


End file.
